Intertwined Fates - AU
by Cattanova
Summary: AU: After what happened to John Smith in Paradise, Ohio, Marina felt like she couldn't stay in Santa Teresa any longer. The only thing holding her back from leaving is Adelina, her Cepan, who has lost hope. However, the sudden arrival of Number Eight in town with the purpose of looking for her made Marina realize that she didn't have to face this alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my first Lorien Legacies fanfiction (and my first ever fanfiction, too). :)**

**It's set in an alternate setting in the Power of Six where Marina is still in Santa Teresa, Spain. However, I've tweaked some stuff... so it's now Eight who goes to Spain to look for Marina in lieu of Six. ;)**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

_I am standing by a circular lake._

_Surrounding one half of the water body are tall, jagged stone walls, with four separate waterfalls descending from atop._

_The rest of the place are trees, bushes, rocks. Typical forest stuff._

_By my either sides stood two girls._

_I don't know them, but I do know that I'm on their side. They're not dangerous. They won't hurt me. I'm sure of that._

_On my left, is a teenage girl who looks about my age. She has olive skin, stormy gray eyes, and blond hair that looks quite a bit unnatural on her. Her posture and her stern facial expression gives off a don't-mess-with-me vibe._

_On my right, is a young girl with reddish hair who looked like she couldn't have been more than 12 years old._

_Our attentions are focused on the white boulder jutting out of the very center of the lake._

_Atop the boulder, a four-armed creature sat crossed legged, eyeing us with its unblinking eyes._

_It almost seemed like a staring contest._

_What are we doing here?_

_What are we waiting for?_

_Finally, the creature slowly stood up, does a dramatic back flip, and dives headfirst into the water._

_Strange enough, I know the four-armed creature is on our side, too. Even it looks a bit menacing._

_I don't know why, but I trust it._

_I wait for what is going to come._

_A few seconds later, a person surfaced._

_A teenage boy._

_His shaggy curly mops were the first thing that caught my attention._

_The teenage boy made a big show of shaking the water out of his hair._

_Once he's done being obsessed with himself, he turns around._

_His attention seems to be fixed on me alone._

_A grin playing on his face as he walks toward us, his gaze still not leaving me._

The scene shifted.

* * *

_I am at a swamp._

_It's like a hundred degrees here._

_Beads of sticky sweat sticks my hair to the back of my neck._

_The murky, wet air is making me feel crazily claustrophobic._

_I look around, trying to get the idea of where I could be._

_I saw the same dyed-blond girl._

_There are three other boys. One has long, shaggy black hair; another is a buff short guy sporting a buzz cut._

_And there he is, the curly-haired boy. Him again._

_I see smoke billowing out of the middle of the swamp. The air around me is disgustingly humid._

_The situation was tense._

_What are we doing here?_

_Somehow I know, one among the people here is not to be trusted. He is the enemy._

* * *

The scene shifted again_. _

_But we seem to still be in the same place, although something seems different._

_Then I notice it._

_I watch, shocked, as the boy with the military buzz haircut stabs the curly-haired boy right in the heart._

_I am horrified._

_He is the enemy. It's all I could think of._

_A scream escaped my throat, ringing loud and clear, piercing the air around me._

_The boy with the military haircut showed no remorse as he delivered the final blow._

_I could only watch as a stranger loses his life right in front of my eyes._

_I'm appalled._

_I feel streaks of tears rolling down like a waterfall down my cheeks._

_I am still screaming._

* * *

I woke up with a start.

I can still feel my throat ringing.

Then something hit me square in the nose.

I groan, and that's when I notice that I am still screaming.

I immediately cease.

"Gosh, Marina, shut up! People are trying to sleep!"

Gabby shouts from across the room, a bitchy tone to her voice. Gabby had thrown a pillow right into my face.

It's just a dream. I exhaled, relieved, although my heart is still pounding like crazy.

I look around the dorm room to see some girls whose slumber I disturbed, eyeing me, looking extremely annoyed.

I notice sweat has burst out of the pores underneath my skin, making my body feel sticky.

I take a deep breath and bury my head into my pillow, trying to pull myself together.

What was that dream all about?

I feel the lights in the room go bright.

I look up to see Sister Dora standing by the switch, with Adelina trailing behind.

"What's going on?" Sister Dora asks.

"Marina suddenly screamed and woke everyone up." Gabby said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"Okay, Gabby. Now quiet down. What happened, Marina?" Sister Dora said.

"Nothing... it's just.. a bad dream. That's all." I reply, feeling extremely self-conscious as everyone fixed their attention on me.

"Okay, if it's nothing, there's no need to scream. Go to sleep, girls. We'll see you in the morning." Sister Dora said, turning her heels, preparing to leave.

The sisters left the room, turning off the lights. Just right before Adelina closed the door, I see her giving me a look.

I can't tell what it means.

It's strange, considering she no longer cares about me, about us, about our root, about what is eventually going to happen. She knows that. She knows that the situation we're in right now isn't a walk in the park. But she doesn't seem to care anymore. After years and years of running, she's lost hope and gone delusional. She is convinced that everything that ever happened to Lorien are all fairy tales. Except fairy tales all have happy endings.

Hers doesn't.

I shook my head vigorously, trying to clear my mind.

The truth is, this isn't the first time I've had such dreams. The dreams feature more of less the same people, but they were never as bad as this last one. None of them had involved someone losing their life.

Whatever, it doesn't mean anything.

Or does it?

What if they mean something?

What if they are _the others_?

I'm too tired to think right now.

_Just go to sleep_, I tell myself.

But I'm afraid to close my eyes. What if I dream the same dream again?

But eventually, sleepiness won over fear. My eyelids give in, and I sailed into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**How was it? Is it too short? I hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless :D please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter :))**

**Before we start, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review my story. Every review is highly appreciated! :D**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

I woke up just as the sun peeked out of the horizon.

I am the earliest up. I always am.

I tiptoed across the room to get to the door. I gently closed it once I'm out.

I don't want to wake anyone up. Especially not today, considering what happened yesterday which might lead to the girls blaming me of waking them up pre-morning bells.

Besides, I need time alone to rearrange my jumbled-up emotions. I'm still traumatized.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop by a large window on the hallway.

I am greeted by the view of the entire Santa Teresa village. Our convent is built atop a hill, so you can always count on having nice sceneries. Besides, Santa Teresa isn't that big of a town.

The town below me is still asleep, although the automatic street lights have long been turned off. The main street of the village, we call it Calle Principal, have yet to be lined with the morning vendors.

I resume my journey toward the bathroom with slow steps. As usual, the hallways smells slightly musty and drafty.

I push the bathroom door open and strode to the sink to brush my teeth. As I turn on the faucet to let water run, I study my face in the mirror hanging above.

My eyes look tired with dark circles gathering at the bottom of my eyes, courtesy of the weird dreams that has been going on for a few weeks now. I hope it stops here. I feel like I have seen the worst.

Moments later, I get out of the shower feeling fresher than when I have just woken up. Right then and there, I hear the familiar sounds of chattering from the far side of the large community bathroom.

The other girls have woken up and I recognized the voices as Gabby, La Gorda, and Bonita. The three most loathed girls in the orphanage. Yet they seem to rule the dormitories when then sisters aren't around.

Gabby is going on and on about how she got zero sleep last night and how she is going to look like a zombie and how hard is it for her to fall asleep once waken up and how is it all Marina's fault. Bonita and La Gorda spoke words of agreement I couldn't quite catch. As usual, Gabby is the most loud and obnoxious one among the threesome.

I scowl.

I am self-proclaimed the most unpopular girl in the orphanage. I knew Gabby and her little clique never really liked me, but the events of last night gave them more reason to despise me.

I ducked back into the stall and latched on the lock. Because hiding from your problems are far easier than facing them head on.

I hear the shuffling footsteps getting louder, indicating they're closer.

"Look, someone's already in the showers." Bonita observed.

"Maybe it's Marina. She always wakes up early. Do you think she heard us?" La Gorda added, her voice lowering to a slight whisper.

"Big deal if she heard us. I don't really care about being in her good graces." Gabby shot back.

I hear the locks to three stalls being latched on with three consecutive clicks. I seize the chance to escape. At least I'l be safe from Gabby and her army of skanks till church ends.

* * *

After a few hours of kitchen duty courtesy of the El Festin, a grand meal prepared by the church every Sunday after mass where we serve free food to the townspeople, I flee the convent as fast as I can, to my secret hideout.

I see my cave from a distance.

As I close the distance between me and the cave, I feel a rush of excitement like I have always felt each time I come over.

The cave is the only place I can find solace. A place where I can escape from the nuns' watch, the girls from the orphanage's scrutinizes, and most of all, Adelina.

I feel even more elated as I thought about the things I'm going to paint today.

The cave is dark, but my legacy of night vision aids me as I weave through the narrow opening.

I am greeted by the familiar sight of a polygon-shaped chamber, with high echoey ceilings.

I walk around the room to assess my paintings.

The first one I see is a landscape of Lorien as how I remembered it from when I was six. Green grass, rolling hills, blue rivers, archways representing the nine elders of Lorien, and etcetera. I still remember it clearly, even after all the years. It's a view I'm more than used to before coming to Earth. It's what I'd see every night before falling asleep and upon waking up, through my bedroom window back in Lorien. I'm hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia, but I quickly brush it off because I might start crying.

I move on to the next painting. It's a portrait of John Smith, the guy who made news a few days ago by destroying an entire school on his own, or so the press said. His sudden disappearance the day after made him look even more suspicious.

Just like the news about the girl in Argentina who picked up a five-ton slab after a huge earthquake to save an old man. She disappeared the day after.

Stirring trouble and disappearing the day after? Sounds terribly like a Loric not wanting to be found by the Mogadorians.

I have been keeping track of any news that might relate to the others ever since Adelina neglected doing it. A few weeks ago the video about John Smith seen weaving his way through fire unharmed made me start wondering if he could be one of us. Besides, his face looked familiar. I'm pretty sure my six year old self had seen the face of John Smith from the spaceship. The nine of us Garde have been spending a year together in the spaceship, after all. I'm sure I'd recognize a few, given my age at that time.

And the fact that a regular human can't walk through fire and much less punch a hole through a brick wall made me even more sure of my suspicions. John Smith walked through fire. John smith didn't just punch a hole through a brick wall, he (or so the press claimed, I'm not sure if I believe the "alone" part) destroyed an entire school. John Smith is a Garde.

Number One, Two, and Three are dead. If John Smith is indeed a Garde, the attack in Paradise sounds a lot like a failed attempt of the Mogadorians to destroy the Garde next in line - Number Four. Sure, the Garde are indeed powerful, but a lone teenager of an alien race with superpowers couldn't do such destruction all by himself. He's only about fifteen or sixteen years old, after all. Not old enough for a Garde to be that strong.

If John Smith is a Garde, is he Number Four?

Is the girl who picked up the five ton slab in Argentina a Garde?

When I voiced this to Adelina, she brushed it off and called me delusional. Like I'm the delusional one.

I give up on Adelina. She's hopeless. It's hard enough getting her to talk in private. Her nonchalant attitude made things even worse.

I brush the thoughts off and move on to a blank piece of wall to start a new painting. I painted the entire wall white as a base and I sat down to wait for it to dry. My thoughts float to the curly-haired boy I've seen so many times in my dreams.

Come to think of it, he's quite attractive. With his tanned skin, well defined muscles, full lips and curly hair. And the fact that I had seen him die made his face even more memorable.

Is he a Garde, too? I vaguely remember a boy with curly hair that looked like him boarding the ship with me. I'm still convinced that the dreams meant something important. Important to our root. I just have the feeling.

I finished outlining his face within seconds. It was easy, square jaw, full lips, curly hair. I start mixing colors on my palette to get a dark copper tone that is his skin color.

Moments later, I finish off painting his dark hair with a flourish. Then I start working on coloring his features.

I start with the eyes, but I'm stopped short when I realize I don't know what his eye color is.

I dig into the deep recesses of my memories, but I couldn't find it.

Fine, I'll just finish off the rest of the face.

A while later, I step back to admire my work.

The jawline looks perfect. His full lips looks exactly like the one I have seen.

The only flaw is that the irises are blank. I left it empty with the hopes of the memory coming back later when I least expect it, but I guess that hadn't happened yet.

I look at my watch. It's almost 5:45. We have to prepare for another round of El Festin at 6.

I pick up my stuff and rush back to the convent.

* * *

As night falls and the bedtime bell tolls, I half-hoped that I'll dream about the curly-haired boy again tonight.

If I do, I'll be sure to remember his eye color.

I just hope that the dream won't be unpleasant.

* * *

**Sooooo, how was it? Please review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! So I'm back with a new chapter. Sorry for taking such a long time to get this one up!**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S.: special thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, or even took the time to read my story. I appreciate it a lot! :)**

* * *

It's been five days and I haven't dreamed about the curly-haired boy again. In fact, my slumbers have been peaceful and dreamless for the past few days.

Five days. That's the longest in a row I've gone without weird dreams ever since the first one I got a few weeks ago.

I still remember how the dream went. I was in a tiny hut in the mountains. The only window of the hut provided a view of an extinguished campfire, the starry night ahead, and more mountains and trees beyond the cliff.

I'm the only one still awake. I see the dyed-blond girl curled up into a ball next to me; the small red-haired girl sleeping in a hammock; and the curly-haired boy dozing off by the fire in the center of the hut, trying to get warmth.

He slept like a baby. I can't help but smile at the sight of his peaceful face.

I study the way his veins slightly pop out of his arms, and how his abs are visible through his slightly see-through white t-shirt. I'm suddenly having to suppress the urge of wanting to crawl into his arms and cuddle with him till dawn. I'm imagining how would his muscular arms wrap around my waist. I can feel almost safe and protected, just by thinking of it.

I continued to stare at him for what seemed like a millennia. But when I woke up, everything in the dream is pushed to the back of my mind only to be brought back now.

I can't say that I'm disappointed that I never found out the curly-haired boy's eye color. But on the plus side I'm finally getting sleep.

I walk past the street vendors that line Calle Principal. As usual, I'm ahead of the other girls on our walk to school. For some strange reason I don't mind too much that I barely have any friends in the orphanage. I quite enjoy the solitude of it all.

I say hi to Hector Ricardo, my only friend in Santa Teresa, when I pass by his house. He is pushing his old mother, Carlotta, in her wheelchair out of the house into the sunlight for their morning walk.

He waved back. In that moment, I vaguely see a dark figure moving in a rushed motion in the small alley between Hector's and another resident's house from the corner of my eye. I turn to look properly, but it's gone.

I shrug, and decided not to make too much out of the moving shadow. Maybe I saw it wrongly, it didn't exist. Thus I carry on with my journey to school.

But I can't seem to shake off the feeling that I'm somehow being watched.

* * *

School dragged on forever. It's last period in Mrs. Brown's history class. She went on and on about some story about Spain and Philippines. I don't feel much like listening, so I opened my notebook and doodled.

I drew a face on a corner of a blank page. I added hair. Then I added other facial features. Then I realized that I've been drawing a picture of the curly-haired boy from my dreams.

It only hit me that the boy has occupied a third of my daily thoughts. So much that he slipped into my subconscious mind. I'm immediately ashamed of myself, I should be worrying about Lorien and how the hell am I going to get out of this place. Yet I'm crushing on a boy I'm not even sure exists.

I look up. Mrs. Brown is still droning on about the same thing. The lesson doesn't interest me, so I look out of the window instead.

Once again, I see a dark figure peeking out of the corner of the window. I caught the shape of a cap and a trench coat. Then it quickly disappeared.

Was it my hallucination again? Two times of seeing shadows zip past the corner of my eyes today. No, it can't be a hallucination.

Then it hit me. Whoever is out there, they're watching someone. Assuming the two dark figures are the same person, he must be watching some girl from the orphanage. He was hiding in the alley near Hector's house. Only the girls from the orphanage use that road because Hector's house is near the foot of the hill the convent was built on. He's watching her - whoever she could be. And the fact that the dark figure reappeared outside Mrs. Brown's classroom - I scan the room for other girls from the orphanage. Fear and panic settles in as I realize that I'm the only one from the convent who is in this class. The person - whoever he - she - it is, is watching... me.

The pressing question is - why me? But it only took a few seconds to put the pieces together, and I'm horror-struck as I come to a realization.

It's them. They're coming after me.

Even if snapbacks and trench coats don't really go together, the Mogadorians would want to try any disguises within reach to hide their horrid features from civilization, right? I'm assuming yes, I've never encountered a Mog before.

But why only now? We've been here for almost 11 years without any disturbance. I haven't done anything that might have attracted unwanted attention lately, didn't I? What caused them to come here?

_Calm down_, I tell myself. The charm will keep me safe from being killed right now. Even if they found me, they can't kill me just yet. But that fact didn't exactly comfort me.

The final bell finally rings and I dash out of Mrs. Brown's class. All I've been thinking about is how I got to tell Adelina about this. I have to hurry.

As I approach the exit I realize that the chances of the Mogs cornering me increases if I walk out that door alone. So I wait for the other kids to swarm out and slip into the crowd. I feel a tad bit safer now. The Mogs wouldn't try anything funny with so many witnesses, won't they?

* * *

Thankfully, when I arrive the orphanage I'm still in one piece. I dash to the sisters' sleeping quarters and found Adelina alone folding sheets.

"They're here." I tell her. "The Mogs. They found me." My heart pounds wildly in my chest and I grow even more anxious each passing second.

She looked at me and I see a shocked expression briefly cross her face, but quickly turned into something somewhat neutral. "How do you know it's them?" She said, her voice calm.

"It's them. It's really them. Someone was watching me on the way to school and during class outside the window. Please believe me." I'm begging her, but she's not moved.

"It's nothing. How do you know for sure it's them? Maybe it's some boy from town. Now go back to your duties." She said.

"B-but-" I start.

"You and your fairy tales. I'm done with them." she replied.

I'm appalled. She was supposed to be my Cépan. A normal Cépan would, under normal circumstances, immediately move away to the next state. Adelina never did anything ever since arriving here. She never trained me, taught me how to use my legacies when she was supposed to. She's just being a sitting duck here.

Coming to her was a mistake. I turn away and walk out. But right before I exit, I say, "You're the worst Cépan ever existed." I storm out of the room without bothering to look back to see how she reacts to my statement.

As I stalk through the hallways, I'm immediately guilt-ridden from what I said to Adelina. I shouldn't be too harsh. I close my eyes, take a breath, and tell myself what's done is done. If she haven't ever done it, it's time for her to look at her mistakes. But she could be right, too. What if it's not the Mogs? It's only been less than a day and I'm already so quick to draw conclusions. I pondered for a while, and decided to try and keep watch for a while before trying anything. At least my life is still in guarantee.

* * *

A week passed, but I haven't seen anyone following me since that one day, even though I've been keeping watch 24/7. It's only now that I cut myself some slack and let my guard down. Maybe Adelina's right, it's not the Mogs. Maybe it's a false alarm. Maybe I'm just really paranoid. For all I know, it could be a stalker boy from town who figured out his secret crush's schedule and stopped prancing around about other girls. Maybe he figured out that his secret crush wasn't in Mrs. Brown's class so he stopped looking.

I carry on with my life. Convent duties and school have been putting me off visiting my cave. Besides, during the last few days I'm still afraid that if I happen to be in the cave when the person who I assumed was the Mogs found me I'll have nowhere to run. I can finally discard the worries.

It's after school on a Friday, and I've long stopped trying to slip in the crowd. I walk ahead of everyone else, eager to go back to my cave today after I'm done with duties.

I see the same trench-coat-and-cap-clothed person hiding behind a dumpster beside the school building. It's the first time I've seen him since that last time. He must be waiting for school to end. I wish I could tell him that stalking his crush would just freak her out instead of making her reciprocate the feelings, but I couldn't be bothered by how other people live their lives.

In that moment, I swear I saw a wisp of curly hair curling out of the back of the trench-coat-and-cap stalker's snapback.

* * *

I arrive at my cave, but I don't know what to paint, so I just sat down and stare into space, and think about nothing in particular.

I'm suddenly interrupted from my daydream by the sounds of shuffling footsteps from afar.

I'm instantly on alert, and jump up from sitting position. I watch the opening of the cave, not daring to move a muscle.

Nobody ever comes here. Its secluded spot and rocky terrain around that makes people step back when they come close is what attracted my attention of turning this into the perfect hiding spot.

A few seconds of silence ensue. Just when I'm starting to wonder whether I've heard it wrongly the sound of the footsteps start back up and gradually turn louder.

Then it hit me.

I was right. Adelina was wrong. It was not a false alarm. It was never any stalker boy from town.. It's the Mogs!

I panic and back into the corner of the cave, eager to put more distance between me and the advancing Mog. My brain is imploding from self-loathing. How could I possibly be this stupid? How could I possibly let my guard down? Why, Seven, why? The reason why the Mogs have been laying low the couple of days before is because they wanted me to let my guard down and only corner me when I'm alone and when I least expect it. Why didn't I figure it out earlier?

A backlit figure appears at the mouth of the cave, but I couldn't see the face because of the blinding sunlight from the outside. I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I can't run now. I have nowhere to run. I back into the corner even more, even though the gap between my back and the wall of the cave is already nonexistent.

The figure comes into view, and I am able to see the face of my stalker. To my relief and surprise, it's not the Mogs.

It's a teenage boy. Not _any_ teenage boy. It's _the_ curly-haired boy from my dreams.

"Hey. I'm Number Eight. I'm here to help. You must be Number Seven." he greeted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again, guys!**

**Thanks all for the reviews, or just views!**

**Without further ado, here's a new chapter. :)**

* * *

I could only gape at him.

My throat feels stuck. But when the words finally find their way out of my larynx they come out as stammers.

"Y-you're... What?" I ask, still disbelieved.

"I'm Number Eight. Eighth in line of the nine Loric children who got sent to Earth." He repeats, and advances forward after finishing his little speech.

"No! Stop! Don't come close." I order, raising my voice. He could be a fake, for all I know. He halts in his tracks, clearly taken aback. Maybe he didn't expect his fellow Garde to doubt him.

"Prove it." I say, gaining momentum to my voice. My whole body is shaking, I hope he doesn't notice it.

Still standing rooted on his spot, he bent down and rolled up his trousers, to reveal a Loric symbol of number eight on his right ankle and three Loric symbols of one till three that represents the fallen Garde on his left.

Relief washes over me as I realize that he's a genuine Loric. Not a fake. I slump down to the floor, exhale loudly, and bury my face in my hands. "Thank goodness. I thought you were a Mogadorian." I say, my voice faltering.

It's only then Number Eight gives himself the permission to close the distance between us both. He comes close, and squats down beside me. He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry I gave you a fright. But I checked, there are no Mogs around here. The village is safe."

More good news. What an eventful day.

"So, what brings you here?" I try to make my voice sound casual, but in actuality I still can't believe that another Garde is with me. It's all so surreal.

"John Smith made pretty big news. I thought if they found him, we must not be any safer. So I figure I should find the Garde, bring all of us together. We will be more powerful in numbers, after all. Thought I'd start with Number Seven." He says.

Number Eight then helps me up to my feet. "So.. How did you know I'm here?" I ask him.

"There's something in my Chest that shows the location of the Garde." He replied.

"Does it show our numbers, too?"

"No... But I just have a feeling that you're Number Seven. Like, I'm really sure that you are. Don't know why. They say Gardes with close numbers have a... special bond."

"So what you mean is... We have a special bond."

"If I was right that you're Number Seven, then yes." He says with a smile. "Am I right?"

"Well... Unfortunately, yes, you are right." I say. "If you're already so sure, why do you still ask?"

"Just.. Making sure that I don't embarrass myself in front of you. A Garde's gotta deliver a good first impression toward his comrades, right?" He says, smiling.

I can't help but loosen up and laugh. I think I can handle his lighthearted personality.

Number Eight then looks around the cave. "Nice hiding spot.. Woah, is that me?" His eyes land on the large portrait of him.

Uh oh. I forgot about the existence of my cave paintings. Nothing says awkward better than getting caught secretly painting a picture of someone.

"Did you draw it?" He asks as he walks toward the painting. "But... Why are my eyes white? That's weird. I thought you didn't know me from before. How did you paint this?" He now turns to look at me, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Easy, now. I never said I painted it." I say, deciding to tease him a little bit.

"Well, who did?" He said, his expression turning wary.

"Actually, I did. Got you."

He raised his hands up in surrender. "Okay. I scared you a bit just now, and now it's your turn. I guess we're even. By the way, you don't even know me from before. How did you do it?"

"Actually... I have been having dreams..." I start.

"About me?" A sly smile slowly forms on his face.

"Oh, shut up." I say, mildly annoyed but I'm laughing a little, too.

"Not just you. Other people too." I continue. "The dreams.. Can be kind of weird. I get a really weird feeling that they're Lorien-related. Don't know why. Just feel it."

"I know. I get those too, sometimes. Some of them can be really scary."

I nod, and say, "well.. You stood out a little in my dreams. So I thought I'd paint a picture of you. Unfortunately, I forgot your eye color." I say, remembering I had seen a dagger go through his heart in my dream. I contemplate on voicing this to him, but decided against it. Furthermore, looks like I'm really starting to warm up with this guy. I don't want to scare him just yet.

I stand up and walk toward the painting beside Number Eight.

"It's green." He suddenly says.

"What?" I ask.

"My eyes. They're green." He turns to look at me, and points his index finger to his eyes.

He's right. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of sea-green.

"Well... Don't you want to finish your painting?" He says. "Come on." He pushes.

I couldn't help but laugh. Why can't I say no to this guy? I grab a paintbrush and a palette. I start mixing colors to get the right shade of sea green.

"So... Do you have any other names besides Seven?" He asks while I start to dip my brush in the newly-mixed paint.

"Um... Why don't you tell me yours, then I'll tell you mine? Do you have any names besides Number Eight?" I counter.

"My human name was Joseph, but no one has called me that in a long time. I'm fine with just Eight."

"I've had many names before, but my current one is Marina."

"Marina... I like that." He says it slowly, like he's savoring my name in his mouth. "Oh, lookie. The picture's complete." He says when I'm finished with the eyes.

He looks around, studying my other paintings. He stops in front of the portrait of John Smith. "John Smith. And... Lorien." He moves on to the landscape I drew of Lorien. "It's beautiful." He breaths.

He looks about the same age as me, I'm guessing he remembers all about Lorien too, considering we were older than most of the other Garde when we first came.

"Where is your Cépan?" I ask him.

Eight didn't answer immediately. His cheerful expression disappear to be replace by something somewhat unreadable. I see sadness glinting in his eyes, and I can guess what must have happened. I remember long ago Adelina telling me things like this do happen. I silently curse myself for being so dumb, for talking outright without thinking.

"He's dead. He was killed by the Mogadorians years ago because we were betrayed by the woman he fell in love with. I have been on my own since then." He says, and my suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm sorry. It must be tough on you." I say, and squeezed his hand. He flashed me a small smile in return.

I continue. "Well.. I understand. Not really, I mean... Mine is still alive and all, but she's not really... like, out there. She's lost hope and doesn't care anymore. She never helps me train. She never knew about what legacies I've developed. I never told her, and she never cared to ask, either." Her scornful attitude toward me the other day is still fresh in my mind.

"I know that she's alive... But I didn't know she's... That way. I'm sorry, too." Eight says.

"Wait, you know?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"Remember that I stalked you for a while? I learned lots of stuff about you." He grins and scratches the back of his head.

"Oh." I completely forgot. I guess his easygoing and fun personality can make anyone magically forget that he did something creepy to them like stalking.

"Anyway," Eight says, and turns away from the painting. "We should get going if we need to find the others. Grab your Chest, and we can go tomorrow."

Woah. I didn't expect him to want to go that fast. Even though I'm eager to leave this place, it still feels weird to just leave behind a place you've been living in for so long. Furthermore, my Chest is still in Adelina's possession. Christ knows where she hid it. "Tomorrow? That fast?" I say. "And... Adelina won't leave with us. Also, She hid my Chest. I don't know where is it."

"Oh... I see." Eight rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb, index finger and middle finger. "Have you asked her before?"

"She wouldn't tell me. But I tried finding it before myself, though. Scoured every inch of the convent. No luck. Adelina did a very great job of hiding it."

"Then I'll help you find it." Eight looks up to face me.

"You will?" I ask, suddenly feeling lightened-up. Then my mood goes downhill as I realize that the Chest can't be opened without her. "But... It can't be opened without Adelina. Doubtful that she's going to do it, too."

"It's okay, we'll cross the bridge when we get to it. You in?" Eight says.

"I'm in." I nod. Something about his positive attitude moved me. He's right. We'll solve the problem when we get to it. Things will be so much easier when I have the Chest. I'll just try to convince her. She's going to have to do it one day, after all. "By the way, where are you currently staying?" I ask.

"In the motel. The service there sucks, if you don't know."

I laugh. It's true that Santa Teresa doesn't exactly offer a lot of luxury.

Looking at my current situation, I realize maybe having an absent Cépan doesn't really seem as bad as I thought it was. I have always thought I was gonna have to leave this place alone when I turn 18, and that kind of scares me, because I have never really been prepared for what's out there. But now it's not so frightening anymore. I already have an ally standing next to me, and the prospect of thriving in the outside world doesn't seem so far away anymore.

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**So... How was it? This chapter was a lot harder to write than I thought... So I hope it doesn't suck! This is actually kind of a filler chapter, so I'm sorry if it's kinda boring... but I promise exciting things await in the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! I'm back with a brand new chapter! Sorry for being super late for this update! I'm not gonna lie, I slacked off a bit. But I promise no more of that from now on! I'll try to update every few days if I'm not busy.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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As quiet as a mouse, I slowly shift the covers away and crawl out of the warmth of my bed.

It is midnight. The clock overhead reads 1 o'clock. I plant my feet onto the wooden floor, and thank goodness, no squeaking. I try to make as little noise as I possibly can - or better, no noise at all - or it will result in my plan foiling, in case I wake anyone up. I can't afford that.

I creep toward the door at the end of the room. My bed is located at the furthest end of the dorm room, thus resulting the need to weave through the maze of beds and comforters with difficulty.

I reach the door. My hands touch the icy cold metal knob, and I'm about to turn it open - that's when I hear a girl shifting in her sleep. I stay still, plant my feet more firmly to the ground, not daring to move a muscle. As if that's going to make me invisible.

Silence ensue, and I'm safe now. I exit the room and quietly close the door.

Eight and I have arranged to rendezvous at the "big window near my dorm room" - that's how he phrased it - I can't believe he actually went as far as to investigating where I'm sleeping. He really did his homework.

I'm still a little conflicted about how I should feel about this. Part of me feels kind of intruded, but another part of me understands that if I were in his shoes, I'd research about my adventure partner-to-be thoroughly, too. Wouldn't want to spill out all of my deep dark secrets to the wrong person, wouldn't I?

Eight and I are going to find my Chest today. My heart pounds with excitement at the prospect of getting my rightful property back, even though I can't actually open it myself. That's something I'll deal with later. Now we are just going to look for it.

I arrive at our appointed spot, and scan the shadows. Looks like Eight isn't here yet.

A few seconds later, I hear rustles breaking the silence. I see a whiff of curly hair at the corner of the window, and Eight's head emerged.

He climbed in with ease, and lands his feet soundlessly on the floor.

He flashed a smile at me. "Let's go." He whispered.

We walked toward the opposite way, away from the dorm and the sleeping girls.

"Where to?" Eight asks, still whispering.

Over the years, I have searched various places for my Chest, but with no success. The hunts for the Chest were never even really thorough, because I was afraid that anyone would find out what I was up to. Eventually, I stopped looking.

I have a rough idea of where to start. The room leading up to stairs to the north belfry where they keep one of the bells, was always locked. That's a place I never searched before.

"Follow me." I whisper.

We walk toward the end of the corridor until we reach a staircase. We go up and the sight of a hallway greets us, each going to our right and left, like we're at a crossroad. Each sides respectively leading to the north and south part of the building. I go right.

We pass through tons of ancient statues and doors to unused rooms. Upon reaching the end of the hallway, we see a heavy-looking wooden door with a padlock on it.

I turn to Eight. "In there is a staircase leading up to the north belfry. I tried picking the lock, but I never succeeded."

"I can pick locks. I'm a pro at it." Eight grinned, and produced two tweezers out of his jeans pocket. He started working on the lock.

I'm aware that I'm breaking one of the biggest rules in this orphanage. But I don't care. I need my Chest back. It could be inside.

Watching Eight picking his way through the heavy oak door, I'm starting to wonder whether he's equipped with two tweezers in his pocket to go all the time? Logically speaking, people only do that when they have serious breaking and entering planned, which is what we are doing right now. Unless he really thought about bringing tweezers because he thinks it's smart to, or he's already familiar about this place. Considering how he planned our rendezvous spot, I'm settling on the latter.

Exactly how much Eight knows about this place? Has he stepped into anyone's personal boundaries, given he knows so much about the convent? I shudder at that thought. I hope he wouldn't go as far as to peep on showering girls.

A click of the unlocked padlock broke my chain of thoughts. Eight looks up at me, smiling at first, then his facial expression turned wary.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

I must have looked bewildered. I quickly smile and say, "nothing."

We push the door open, and we enter a small, circular room with a spiral stone staircase. We ascend, and a huge rusty bronze bell hanging lumbers into view.

Aside from the rusty piece of huge metal, nothing. No Chest.

I have always thought my Chest would be tucked in some locked room, somewhere not many people has access to. The north belfry is on the top of my list, because it has been unused for so long. But it isn't here.

"Not here." Eight voices out the obvious.

We descend the staircase and click the padlock back into place.

We try the south belfry, and were disappointed again. But the optimistic side of my brain reminds me that we've only searched two places.

That alone gives me enough motivation. I feel a rush of excitement whoosh through my spine. I shouldn't give up that easily. There are so many locked and unused room in this floor to hide a chest. It's like looking for a treasure chest - no pun intended - it's almost fun.

Without further ado, we pick open every locked door on the corridor. But we come out empty-handed each time.

I sigh, feeling a twinge of disappointment. Maybe searching for the Chest might not be that easy of a task after all.

Eight puts his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't get discouraged. We have only searched this floor. We'll try everywhere until we get it." He says.

I remember all those years ago where I would be scouring every corner of the convent for my Chest. I used to feel so excited every time I thought I would finally get my Chest back. Or even knowing where it is. It gives me the security knowing what I need most is almost within reach. But over the years, my spirit has worn off little by little. Hearing Eight's determined voice, I can feel the spirit coming back. Eight just has this effect on me.

I smile. "You're right. I shouldn't be moping about not finding it. We'll search every inch of the building, until we find it."

This time Eight leads me down the stairs. He navigates the convent with ease (which is something I'm not very surprised about). We search every unused room on the floor. Each unsuccessful search only boosts my motivation even more. The contagious enthusiasm of Eight's is still instilled very deep in me.

We scoured the sisters' lounge, every empty office, and we know it's futile anyway, because they're not very good hiding places. But just in case. As expected, we come out empty-handed again.

We descend the stairs to the ground floor, where the church and the kitchens are.

We search the kitchen first. Every storage room, every utility closet, nothing.

_Nothing._

I'm starting to feel disappointment bubbling. My lifted spirit is slowly fading away like an inflated balloon.

"If it isn't anywhere, then we should resort to crawling in the ventilation system to find it." Eight says, and chuckled at his own joke.

I laugh a little too. I could use a joke - even a bad one - at times like this.

But there is still one more place we haven't searched, which is the church.

Although my spirits are close to dying, but it's _not_ dead _yet_. The enthusiasm is still lingering.

We step into the church. If we can't find it here, we'll try another day. It's already two hours, and my eyelids are already threatening to droop.

Maybe we'll have to resort to squeeze through the vents, like Eight said. It's not entirely impossible, so it's still debatable.

We are greeted by a view of rows and rows of pews on two sides of the church, being separated by a huge aisle on the centre.

We walk at the centre aisle, meanwhile scanning our surroundings for any signs of the Chest.

We make reach the end of the rows of pews. The wall ahead of us is curved outward, dotted with high pillars and huge tall statues of saints at regular intervals of six feet or so. They stand on either sides of the altar, flanking it.

Doubtful that the Chest might be here, but it's worth a try. You can't be too careless. I'll try anywhere until I find it.

We turn right, and walk toward the end of the wall. A high pillar holds one end of the ceiling. A tall statue of a saint whose name I can't remember is placed beside the pillar.

"Is this where you wanna start?" Eight asks.

I squeeze myself in the narrow space between the pillar and the statue. My actions are self-explanatory to his question. I'm thin, so it's not that hard.

"You don't suppose that a Chest could be hidden in a place like that? Or are you looking for secret nooks?" Eight asks, and inches closer.

"Secret nooks?" I look at him incredulously.

"Just saying. But there might be some. The building's old. You never know what the people then could have wanted to build. You know about the ancient times... A building has, like, a hundred of secret passages. If I were you, I'd keep an eye out. A nook, I mean. Or a secret passage. Yeah. That'd be fun."

"I'm desperate. I'm willing to look through the narrowest space for any possibility my Chest could be there." I admit.

I resume looking.

And then I see... _it_.

Beneath the tall statue high up, I see a corner of a _nook_.

Totally unnoticeable. Unless you wedge yourself in between the statue and the pillar, you won't see it.

_A secret nook_.

I laugh. Eight is right, after all.

Eight inches over. He looks up to see my most recent discovery.

"Am I right, or am I right?" He grins.

I laugh and roll my eyes. I pushed my head closer in to get a better view.

It's a long shot, but the nook looks about big enough to hold a Chest. It might be inside. I beam at the thought of getting the Chest back - finally - and convincing Adelina to come escape with us. She'll train me. And I finally feel like I'm doing something for Lorien.

But there's a pressing problem ahead. How am I going to get it down? If it's even there.

I turn to look at Eight. "If we can climb this thing... Then we can see if it's inside."

He grinned mischievously. "Or I have an easier way. Have I ever told you that one of my legacies include teleportation? I can just push this thing over and get to it."

He then proceeds to use telekinesis to move the statue aside, and now the nook is exposed. It's pitch black inside.

Eight teleports up in mid-air, right in front of the nook, and grabbing the arm of the statue to give himself a steady grip. He then extends his hand into the nook. He felt around for a few seconds, and I hear a sound of something scraping against concrete. _The Chest_? My heart pounds faster than ever.

Finally, the Chest looms into view. Eight uses telekinesis to pull it out further. Now it's perched on the edge of the recess.

My Chest. _Finally_. It really is my Chest. After years and years of searching.

Eight grabs the Chest and teleports back.

Maybe it's a miscalculation in the teleporting thing, he lands _right_ in front of me. To say he is very close would be an understatement. I can see the little flecks in his green eyes. Our noses are basically touching. My cheeks turn warm, and I stagger backwards. My back hit the wall with a thud.

Uh oh. We made noise.

"Sorry." Eight says, and extends his hand to pull me up. I take it, and I notice a tint of red on his cheeks. Is he _blushing_?

I blink, and it's gone. His cheeks are the regular color of his bronze skin. Maybe I saw it wrongly.

"We should push that back." Eight says, and gestures toward the statue. We both do it together this time with telekinesis. Soon the statue is back in place, and the nook is once more invisible.

I stare at my chest. My heart goes warm. I finally got it back.

Driven by impulse, I reach out and give Eight a big hug. "Thank you so much." I say, my voice muffled by his t-shirt.

He probably said something along the lines of "no problem" "you're welcome" or all that, but I'm too absorbed in the surreality of it.

And then we hear footsteps. We pull away.

"Oh shit." Eight whispers.

"Where are we gonna put this?" I whisper, growing more and more anxious each passing second.

"I'll teleport it to my hotel room." Eight bends down to grab the Chest. "Are you okay alone here?"

I nod, and hiss, "Hurry! Go now! I'll be fine. "

Eight disappears along with my Chest, and I'm left alone with the advancing footsteps.

The owner of the footsteps appears at the entrance of the church. Sister Lucia.

Oh, crap. The head nun of the convent. She's going to get me good for sneaking out of bed.

Then an idea pops up.

I put on the best sleepy expression I could muster.

Sister Lucia comes closer, her shoes tapping loud and clear against the floor.

"Marina, what are you doing here, out of bed, in the middle of the night?" She scolds.

"I don't know... Sister Lucia. I think I sleepwalked." I use my best sleepy voice.

It's such a bad lie. What are the chances of her buying it?

She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing me, as if trying to figure out if I'm lying. Which is probably what she is doing anyway.

He face softens up, and held me by the shoulder. "It's okay. I'll walk you back to your room." She says.

Thank God she bought it. It must be pretty darn convincing.

We head back to the dorms, and I collapse onto my bed. I'm tried and I fall asleep almost immediately.

The few seconds right before I fell asleep, all I thought about is how the Chest is finally in my possession. Now I just have to get Adelina to open it for me.

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**So how was it? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and fingers crossed ya'll had a lot of fun reading it too! I hope this fulfills the promise I made in the last update where I said this chapter will be more exciting. I hope it does!**

**Review? :)**


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